


Don't Like It

by thanku4urlove



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Making Out, Unresolved Sexual Tension, kind of? very light and a little unintentional but, that's it that's the fic, wanted to tag it just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanku4urlove/pseuds/thanku4urlove
Summary: "What is this?" Junhui asked, the words quick Mandarin, spoken in the split-second Minghao had used to breathe. But Junhui knew how he looked, knew what he was doing in his black studded choker, his black flowy shirt that both clung to him and exposed too much skin at the same time; his dark eye makeup. Minghao wanted to smudge it. He wanted to run it down Junhui's cheeks.Junhui had teased Minghao on stage. He'd also thought that Minghao would hold it together better.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	Don't Like It

**Author's Note:**

> listen it's really not as spicy as it sounds because honestly guys they're in the middle of a concert, they literally don't have the time. Inspired by the My I performance from the 2017 Diamond Edge tour (link in end notes if you haven't seen it!)

Junhui was trying to change his stage outfits, but was having some difficulty. He’d only performed two and a half songs in the clothes he was wrestling off, but it was summer and the concerts were outdoors, and the constant threat of rain had the air thick with humidity. Trying to pull a pair of white, skintight jeans up over his sweaty thighs was proving both physically challenging and time consuming. 

But _Hurricane_ had already started, Soonyoung’s rapping and growling having already begun on stage, and if Junhui took any longer, Minghao was going to eat him alive. He knew he really should wait, because the concert came first, so Junhui needed to be ready to go. Plus, a Wen Junhui without pants on was a situation that could easily carry itself away. But they only had so much time. 

Junhui was still trying to get his jeans buttoned when Minghao decided enough was enough, surging forward from where he’d been standing aside. He gripped one of Junhui’s wrists in each hand, pushing to overpower Junhui just a bit, just enough to get him off balance, and it worked; Junhui stumbled a few paces before his back hit the metal infrastructure behind them, and Minghao pressed his mouth over Junhui’s. 

The kiss was messy, sweaty and open-mouthed and Minghao didn’t care. He just needed to taste Junhui, wanting to touch him everywhere, wanting to lick every inch of his body but settling for holding the delicate bones of Junhui’s wrists in his hands as he licked into Junhui’s mouth. 

“What is this?” Junhui asked, the words quick Mandarin, spoken in the split-second Minghao had used to breathe. But Junhui knew how he looked, knew what he was doing in his black studded choker, his black flowy shirt that both clung to him and exposed too much skin at the same time; his dark eye makeup. Minghao wanted to smudge it. He wanted to run it down Junhui’s cheeks.

This really was Junhui’s fault. Minghao had held it together while on stage, despite Junhui’s hungry glances at him. Junhui had looked at him like that on purpose. He’d done it all on purpose, on stage in front of everyone. It had been blatant provocation, and Minghao knew it, and Junhui knew he knew it. Junhui’s surprise told Minghao that he had also expected Minghao to restrain himself better, but they were backstage now, and Minghao had decided he didn’t care. 

Junhui recovered quickly, pushing against Minghao this time to press as close as possible. He was already overwhelming, and now he was suffocatingly close, and when he bit down on Minghao’s bottom lip hard enough to sting, Minghao felt an unbidden moan leave his mouth, his grip going slack. 

The shift was quick; both of Minghao’s wrists were locked together by one of Junhui’s large hands now, and Junhui was leaning his head back, just barely out of reach. 

“I asked a question. Don’t just make noises.” He murmured, his breath hot against Minghao’s lips, and Minghao whined, trying to push so that he could get Junhui back to where he’d had him at the start, shoved against something, where he couldn’t lean away and Minghao could press close to him and just melt for a few moments, just alleviate some of the heat in his stomach. But Junhui had his footing now, and would not be swayed back. “Use your words, Hao.”

Junhui was so close, but not close enough. Usually, Minghao wouldn’t tolerate this kind of behavior in public from Junhui, wouldn’t engage in it, but _Hurricane_ was already half over, and they would have to go back on stage soon, and he hadn’t been kissed nearly enough. The small, fuzzy, still reasonable part of Minghao’s brain couldn’t believe that Junhui was wasting time on escalating the situation, on making it so it would be even worse for both of them when they had to step out in front of the public again. The part of Minghao that had been dating Junhui for a year wasn’t surprised in the slightest at what was going on. None of these thoughts were actually coherent at the moment, though. 

“Don’t like it.” He managed out. Junhui’s free hand, large and radiating heat, slipped under the loose fabric of Minghao’s distressed sweater. 

“Don’t like it?” Junhui’s mouth curled into a grin that Minghao had been expecting as he trailed his fingers over Minghao’s damp abdomen, feeling the muscles of Minghao’s chest and stomach quivering under his touch. His mouth was barely centimeters away from Minghao’s, but he still wasn’t letting Minghao close the distance, and Minghao struggled to hold in another noise. “Don’t like what?”

“Don’t like it when you’re this hot.” 

Junhui slid his hand up with purpose this time, maybe noticing how Minghao’s sweater had slipped, the hole on his chest instead of over his collarbone, his left nipple exposed to the open air. He brushed his thumb over it and Minghao‘s breath hitched, Junhui finally letting their mouths reconnect, swallowing down another sound and kissing Minghao back. 

“I think you like it a lot.” He said softly, his voice dangerously low, and it was good that he had Minghao’s wrists restrained, tightening a bit when Minghao tugged, because Minghao was ready to rake his nails down Junhui’s back, ready to properly bite at him, to do something about his cocky attitude. 

“Hard to perform.” Minghao didn’t like how breathless he sounded. “Hard to focus.” _Hard._

Junhui’s hand slid up his chest to cup his cheek, but before Minghao could kiss him again his entire body jumped, and there was the sound of something plastic clattering in the floor. 

_“We’re up.”_ It was Chan; he’d thrown a scrunched up water bottle at Junhui’s head. He hadn’t missed, either. He looked like he didn’t want to get within arm reach for his own personal safety, but there was a bit of a precedent for that, so Minghao couldn’t blame him. _“Get your mics on.”_

The Korean words were a bit difficult to process—truth be told, everything that wasn’t Junhui had fallen out of Minghao’s lens of focus—but Chan didn’t wait for comprehension, stepping away again. He’d looked particularly disgruntled, and yes, it was a bit unprofessional for Minghao to try to maul Junhui in the middle of a concert, but it wasn’t worse than anything Chan’s poor eyes had been subjected to before, or worse than anything Chan had subjected them to in return. 

Then Minghao realized their position; Junhui’s pants were still completely unbuttoned, and Junhui hadn’t taken his hand out of Minghao’s sweater to touch his face, simply utilizing the large hole and reaching up through it. They probably looked ridiculous. A grin on Junhui’s face told Minghao that he’d been fully aware of what he was doing, and Minghao couldn’t help but wonder how he’d still managed to make it sexy. Minghao loved his stupid boyfriend. 

Minghao was laughing before Junhui had even let his wrists go, Junhui laughing too, the two of them leaning against each other. 

“We really need to go.” Minghao said, trying to switch his speech back to Korean, trying to refocus. He hadn’t realized until that moment that his bottom lip felt a little sore. The ache was distracting, but a small part of him hoped it would stay for the rest of the concert. “Dino will kill us.”

Junhui pressed a light kiss to his neck, sweet and chaste, and Minghao didn’t even try to fight the grin on his face. 

It was seconds before their entrance, about to split up for their returns to the stage, and Junhui was still struggling with the button on his pants. 

“Do you need help?” Minghao decided to ask, covering his mic. Chan leaned in, covering his mic too. 

“I don’t want to know what your help looks like. It’s your fault his pants are too tight in the first place.”

Minghao couldn’t really argue with that, but tried to, knowing the response was childish. 

“Jun started it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Here it is.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PERV6MZP6WQ) Jun is definitely gonna eat Minghao at 0:25 and 3:20. [Here's a link](https://youtu.be/5QEo93jF_Ek) to the entire Performance unit cut, if you want to watch the full thing for context and outfits and stuff, it's just lower quality.
> 
> on an unrelated note, this is officially my 20th svt fic! I was kinda hesitant to post this bc I did want this milestone to be something a bit more sentimental than Minghao Is Horny but it is what it is lol. It's been a crazy 6 months writing fic for this fandom, and I've really loved how kind all of you are ♡ huge thank you to everyone for enjoying my works!!


End file.
